


Through the Window

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1764605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Finally, after debating over texting Combeferre or Courfeyrac or literally any of his friends to ask for advice, Enjolras decided on a direct approach, clearing his throat loudly and saying, “Um, excuse me?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The man opened one blue eye and groaned. “Oh fuck,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”</em>
</p>
<p>Five times Grantaire "accidentally" broke into Enjolras's apartment through his window, and one time it was completely on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Window

**Author's Note:**

> Not much to say about this one other than lots of fluff.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

The first time it happened, Enjolras walked directly past the dark-haired man asleep on his couch without even batting an eye. To be fair, it was obscenely early, because Combeferre had set the meeting time and Combeferre was a morning person, the dreaded concept, and Enjolras had not even had coffee yet, so how was he supposed to notice the fact that there was a large, fairly attractive stranger passed out on his furniture?

By his second cup of coffee, he had not only noticed, but had devised and promptly dismissed a dozen different plans for how to wake said stranger up and possibly politely request he vacate the premises because, well, Enjolras didn’t think he’d given permission to a random stranger to sleep on his couch. His parents’ couch, maybe, because Enjolras would never be above offering those less fortunate than him a chance to stay at the Enjolras family mansion, but not on his own couch, not in his sanctum sanctorum.

He also was debating over asking the strange man to put his shirt back on, because while it just seemed polite to ask the half-naked man to not be so in his living room when he didn’t even know his name, the shirtless part wasn’t entirely unappealing. Hey, Enjolras had eyes, and even the distraction of a perfect stranger in his living room couldn’t detract from the sight of those muscles and tattoos.

Finally, after debating over texting Combeferre or Courfeyrac or literally any of his friends to ask for advice, he decided on a direct approach, clearing his throat loudly and saying, “Um, excuse me?”

The man opened one blue eye and groaned. “Oh fuck,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“Hardly,” Enjolras said, a little dryly. “You actually somehow managed to break into my apartment and fall asleep on my couch. Either you’re the worst thief of all time, or…”

He trailed off, watching at the dark-haired man slowly sat up, running a hand across his face as he glanced around him. “I’m not a thief, I promise,” he assured Enjolras, sounding a little confused. “I actually have no idea why I’m here. Or where I am.” He looked up at Enjolras. “Or who you are, though that I would love to know.”

Enjolras hesitated for a moment before holding out his hand for the man to shake. “I’m Enjolras. And you’re in my apartment. Which is five floors up from the street, in case you were wondering.”

The man smiled widely at him and shook his hand. “I’m Grantaire.” He carefully stood, rolling his head around as if to alleviate a stiff neck, and wandered over to the window, looking out of it. “Well, there’s your problem — you left your window unlocked.”

“And that excuses you breaking in here?” Enjolras asked, perturbed.

Grantaire turned back to grin at him. “Nah. I was also spectacularly drunk.” Before Enjolras could respond to that, his mouth opening indignantly, Grantaire turned back to the window and nodded at the street below. “I recognize where we are. My friend Bossuet lives the next building over, and I was undoubtedly trying to break into his apartment.”

Enjolras started to snap his response, then paused. “You know Bossuet?”

Raising an eyebrow at him, Grantaire said, “Yeah, we go way back. I was the one who introduced him and Joly to Musichetta, and in return they let me crash at their place when I’m too drunk to get back to my own.” He shrugged. “But every now and then, I get too drunk to even make it to their place, apparently, though you’ve at least got to admire my dedication in climbing up five flights of what looks like the jankiest fire escape of all time.” He paused, then looked appraisingly at Enjolras. “Wait a minute — you’re that revolutionary that Bossuet and Joly were telling me about, aren’t you? Goddamn I can’t believe I fell asleep at your place.”

Enjolras flushed. “Why?” he shot back. “Is fighting for the people really such a terrible thing?”

Grantaire shook his head and laughed, causing Enjolras to look affronted. “No, it’s not that, though I imagine we could probably argue over that for a long time. Just that Bossuet and Joly sometimes talk about you like you’re some kind of god, and here I am, breaking into your place and passing out.” His tone turned bitter and self-deprecating. “What you must think of me.”

For a moment, Enjolras was speechless, surprised by the turn in conversation. Then he said bracingly, “Well, I let you sleep here, and that should speak for itself.”

Grantaire managed a small smile at that, and asked, “Can I take you out for breakfast? Seems only fair since you let me sleep here.”

Enjolras smiled in return, but then his smile faltered. “I would love to, but I can’t. I’m joining some friends for a meeting. Raincheck, though?”

Grantaire gave him an easy grin and edged towards the window. “I’ll hold you to that, you know,” he said, opening the window and sliding outside.

“You can go out the front door, you know!” Enjolras called after him.

Grantaire stuck his head back in and winked. “I know, but it’s no fun that way.”

Then he was gone, leaving Enjolras staring after him and deeply regretting that he had a meeting to get to.

* * *

 

The second time it happened, Enjolras was busy studying for finals. He had a pot of coffee freshly brewed in the kitchen and all of his books on the justification of violence spread on his coffee table, three packs of post-its and more highlighters than any individual should possess ready for his use.

He was so absorbed in his texts that he barely even noticed when his window scraped open, though he couldn’t help but look up when a voice said loudly, “Oh, fuck, it’s you.”

It was Grantaire, standing at his window, half in and half out, looking at him with a bemused expression. Enjolras thought about just telling him to leave, but he really didn’t have time for an argument, so he sighed and turned back to his book, telling Grantaire gruffly, “If you’re going to come in, come in.”

Without another word, Grantaire stumbled over to the couch, plopping down next to Enjolras and curling up, barely giving what Enjolras was working on a second glance.

But then Grantaire scooted closer to Enjolras. And then he was right next to Enjolras. And then his head was listing against Enjolras’s shoulder. “You’re a fucking nerd, did you know that?” he slurred, nodding towards Enjolras’s book.

Enjolras just sighed and rolled his eyes, and Grantaire’s own eyes closed, his head growing heavy against Enjolras’s shoulder as he fell asleep.

Enjolras found that raising his hand to run his fingers through Grantaire’s hair was surprisingly soothing, and helped the studying go by faster.

* * *

 

The third time it happened, Enjolras was done with finals. He had been not so looking forward to a quiet night at home, since his friends had predominantly cancelled on his meeting that was supposed to be scheduled that night. When Grantaire knocked on his window, Enjolras figured at worst it would be a welcome distraction.

He couldn’t have imagined what kind of a distraction it would be.

“But you’re not looking at things from a long-term perspective,” Enjolras said hotly, pulling his hair into a bun and putting it up with a hair tie as he glared at Grantaire, ignoring the time that was blinking at him from his clock and told him that it was after three in the morning.

Grantaire chuckled softly. “And your long-term perspective sounds hopelessly naïve, in my humble opinion. It’s based on faulty assumptions and could never come to pass, not in our lifetime or the next.”

Enjolras made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and stood to stalk over to his bookshelf and grab a book from it, tossing it at Grantaire’s head, only half-caring that he caught it in time. “Here. Read this. Educate yourself. I’m not naïve, just because I’m hopeful.”

Grantaire looked down at the thick book in his hands and back up at Enjolras. “What, am I supposed to read this tonight? Don’t you think it’s time we both went to bed?”

Tossing his hair imperiously, Enjolras said, “Well, whatever you want to do. But I expect you to have read up on that by the time we do this again.”

Laughing lowly, Grantaire asked, “You think this will happen again?”

* * *

 

It did.

Grantaire was surprisingly sober when he showed up the fourth time, book in hand. Enjolras looked up at him expectantly, not even surprised when Grantaire tripped through his window. “Did you read it?” he asked.

“Of course,” Grantaire said easily, settling next to him on the couch.

“And?” Enjolras demanded.

In lieu of an answer, Grantaire surged forward and kissed him.

* * *

 

“Do you honestly expect him to come back?” Combeferre asked quietly one night, a few weeks later, watching at Enjolras conspicuously left his window unlocked.

Enjolras froze, because they had discussed this before. Grantaire had not been back since he and Enjolras had spent half the night making out. They hadn’t had any chance to talk, and by all accounts, that probably meant Grantaire wanted nothing to do with Enjolras. But still, Enjolras couldn’t find it in himself to lock his window, hoping against all hope that Grantaire might again stumble through his window to ask him stupid questions or make stupid arguments. “Is it such a bad thing if I do?” he asked quietly.

Combeferre shook his head, though he looked apprehensive. “You know him better than I,” he said, honestly. “And maybe he’ll come back through your window one night. But Enj…from where I’m standing, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Not when I can literally see how much it hurts you.”

Though Combeferre left soon after, his words lingered behind, and Enjolras closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the window. He knew that Combeferre was right. he couldn’t keep living this way, hoping that Grantaire would come back, that they would talk and everything would be fine and that everything would make sense.

Decided, he closed his window with a snap and locked it tightly.

Within ten minutes, he had opened it again. Just in case, he told himself.

The next morning, he woke to find Grantaire on his couch, cup of coffee cradled in his hands. “Hey,” Grantaire said quietly. “I think we need to talk.”

* * *

 

“It’s about time you got here,” Enjolras said sternly when Grantaire stumbled through his window late one night. “I was about to get worried.”

Grantaire snorted and picked himself up off the floor. “Blame Bahorel. He was the one who started a barfight.” He crossed the living room to pull Enjolras off of his couch and into a kiss, his arms wrapping around Enjolras’s waist as if they belonged there.

In fact, everything about their movements seemed familiar, as if they had been doing this for a long time, which judging by the way Enjolras told Grantaire exasperatedly, “You know, I did give you a key for a reason, and it was so you could start using the front door”, they had.

Still, Grantaire just chuckled and kissed Enjolras again. “Yeah, I know, but there’s something nostalgic about coming in through the window.”

Enjolras just laughed and shook his head. “Whatever you say. Just so long as you come back here.”

Grantaire kissed him gently, his grip on Enjolras’s hips firm. “Absolutely,” he told him sincerely. “I always will.” Enjolras shook his head and pulled away, heading for their bedroom, leaving Grantaire behind in the living room. For a moment, Grantaire just smiled a little goofily after Enjolras, then went over to the window, closing and locking it before following Enjolras into their bedroom.


End file.
